just say it
by Kwa76
Summary: In the middle of the investigation about the strange murder of Jane Combri, Sherlock will also try to understand the relation problem with his flat mate, John Watson, which who he seems to be a bit too close these days... ( I need reviews please thx :D )
1. Chapter 1

''No?!''

''Sorry Sherlock but it will be without me this time''

John was sitting on the sofa, with a small sorry smile, looking at Sherlock who was standing, his coat on and with a rush look in his eyes.

''But I can't solve this case without you john!''

Said Sherlock, turning around and doing large gestures with his hands, before rashly turning back to his flatmate and gave the half embarrassed and half deceived smile.

''Don't be stupid Sherlock you could solve crimes before I got here! Why would it change?''

Of course, using simple explanations and saying the truth how it really was was not in the choices of Sherlock's answer ideas. He stopped at the first letter before changing into an other one who was half true.

''because your doctor skills are very helpful and I resolve the crimes a lot faster! Come on, why don't you want to come today?''

''Because I just want to rest ! Try to understand that I don't have the same passion of murders then you do.''

Sherlock sighted angrily and took his scarf that was on the chair and wrapped it around his neck with frustration.

He looked back at John before turning back towards the door and leaving the apartment.

''See you later!''

Said John with a little sound of regret in the back of his throat before taking the journal on the armchair and opening it.

'' Oh Sherlock I was expecting you''

''Lestrade.'' Said Sherlock coming out of the black cab and crossing his way.

''Where is John?'' asked the inspector, joining the tall man to the crime scene. He slightly sighted and didn't answer.

''Did you two get in a fight?''

Holmes stopped and looked at him.

''None of your concern.'' Before entering the house. They crossed the flat before arriving at the door on the other side. He opened the wooden opening and arrived in the garden. There were a few police men around the body of a blond woman. Sherlock went straight to her and stop near the dead body. He turned back to Lestrade and gave a questioning look to him.

''Jane Combri, a 46 year old mother. She had 2 children and a husband but they divorced 7 months ago. Both children live with their father but they come to visit her every two weeks. It's the neighbourhood who spotted her from their window.''

''5 minutes.'' Replied Sherlock before crouching near the women.

''Welcome back Sherlock.''

John was still in his armchair when Sherlock came in the room. He slowly turned towards the man. John started at him weirdly before asking:

''So? What happened? What kind of death was it this time? ''

''I will only tell you if you want to join me in this case.'' His cold voice took the smile off John's face that sighted before standing up and grabbing his black coat.

''Where are you going?''

''Shopping. '' And went out. Sherlock stood still for a while, before hitting his forehead hard with the palm of his hand.

''Stupid!'' Said Holmes before rushing out of the flat and running after John who was walking a few meters away in the cold white snow.

''John!'' He turned back and saw Sherlock's white face and his blue eyes looking straight at him, like if he had something so important to tell him that he couldn't wait a second longer.

''What is it?'' He felt like he was actually hoping for something.

''John... I...I...I... I used your blue and brown jumper to wrap the hand of a dead man in it for my experiment.''


	2. Chapter 2

The feeling of disappointment was still felt in John's eyes when he woke up. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked outside. The snow had stopped falling, but the sky was still grey and the ground perfectly covered in white.

''Already up Sherlock? Don't tell me you've been working all night!'' said Mr. Hudson, a cup of tea in her hand coming in the room.

'' _When these graven lines you see,  
Traveller, do not pity me;  
though I be among the dead,  
let no mournful word be said._''Recited Sherlock with a slow and tired voice. He was lying down on the couch, both his hand under his chin in his usual thinking position.

''Well well! What is that poem ?''

''Edwin Arlington Robinson : _A happy man_. The poem was found in the right pocket of Mrs Combri.''

''_We think that she was killed by an animal, seeing her injuries on her body.'' In fact, she had multiple bites on her body. 4 in total: on her left arm; her right leg; in her neck and on her left hip. But of course, Sherlock already knew it was there to make them believe it was an animal that had caused her death. She had clearly been beaten to death with an object on her forehead. If it had been an animal, it would have eaten her entirely seeing the size of his mouth. _

_After reading the poem that was placed inside the women's pocket, everything was pointing straight at the husband. It was too obvious of course. _

''morning.'' Said John, already dressed heading towards the kitchen to make himself a tea. Sherlock responded in a small noise which vaguely resembled a ''yes''.

''What are you waiting for Sherlock?''

''10am.''

''Where are you going?''

''to visit the husband of the... nice try John but I won't tell you more.''

John sighted.

''I wasn't trying to-...''

Sherlock stood up so quickly that it nearly scared John.

''Then why were you asking?''

Even he couldn't answer. It just felt natural to ask, but natural in what way?

''I was just... wondering.''

Sherlock came near him with an intrigued look.

''That was clearly an excuse to hide the truth that you don't want to accept John.''

Yes, he was right, but Watson thought he could avoid the subject longer than that.

''Don't worry I forgive you about the jumper incident.''

''You know what I'm talking about.''

He couldn't look at him in the eye. He knew that if he would, Sherlock would understand immediately. Actually, the chances of him already knowing were around 89% anyway. The conversation was interrupted by a ringing sound.

''John do you mind getting my phone?'' John looked behind him and saw the small phone on the table in the kitchen. He grabbed it without thinking and handed it rashly to Sherlock who snapped it out quickly from his hand before opening it.

''Time for me to go. Do you want to come? I'll explain everything on the way.''

When he turned back to his flatmate, he already had his jacket in his hand and a positive look on his face. Sherlock did I tiny smile before grabbing his coat and scarf and walking out of the apartment with his companion.

''I'm surprised you haven't solved this case already.''

Said John in the cab.

''I told you before, I don't want to resolve this case without you.''

''Actually no, you said you couldn't. So you just want me to work with you is that it?''

''You really are stupid. We have arrived.''

He didn't have time to ask why that Sherlock was already out of the cab. The black car left leaving both men knocking at the entrance door. A 50 year old man opened the door.

''Sorry for disturbing you in the middle of a nice moment with you new girlfriend but we would like to ask you questions about your wife's death.'' Said Sherlock with a cold face.

''Who are...? How did you...?

''The time you took to open the door, the top button of your shirt has been rashly closed, you have no shoes or socks, the blond hair on your right shoulder and your face expresses the non_wanting of our presents. I could continue even longer but I think this shall do.''

He presented his hand.

''Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Watson from the police. Hello Mr. Combri. ''


	3. Chapter 3

''She wasn't a very good mother; she didn't even seem to care about her children. All that she always cared about is her makeup, her money... at the end of our marriage, I hated that women. ''

He sat down in the armchair in front of Sherlock who was watching him carefully. John was next to him and asking the questions.

''When was the last time you saw her?''

''Last week when I came back to fetch the kids back, of course the only words she said to me was ''your late.''.

The father had a strong accent so was the size of his round stomach. Even if he was only saying bad things about his wife, he seemed to have a sad glow in his eyes, maybe of pity for the gone mother. John took the cup of tea in front of him on the table in front of his seat and brought it to his mouth. Sherlock was still staring at the man that he described already as a suspect, making very uncomfortable. Holmes took a small smile on his mouth but only John sitting next to him saw it, and when he did, he knew what was coming up next. The consulting detective took a loud breath in as he stood back up in the deep and soft seat. As he looked even closer the under pleasured man, he left his mind palace to finally reveal his arrogant thoughts.

''I'm sure that your wife wasn't only annoying to you , she probably had hundreds of enemies, and in all these people...''

He stood up and gave a smile to John before continuing.

''...One, only one hated her so much that he could even do the most extreme act of hatred ever towards someone : murder. ''

He turned back to the fat man with a rush step.

''Did you wife ever mention a person she knew in her childhood that she hated? A stalker? A close enemy? Or maybe an arch enemy so we could also suspect her elder brother.''

That last phrase left John exasperated.

''Or maybe a close arch enemy that she knows from her childhood that is stalking her.''

''What are you talking about Mr. Holmes?''

''Oh don't tell me who it is, It would spoil all the fun!''

He stopped and smiled cleverly.

''I'll need the names of her classmates in college and all the information about her friends, contacts and principally her enemies. Right now, the list of suspect is around... I would say... 200.

''Are you mad? And what about the animal bites she had on her body? Are you investigating on an actual murder?!''

Sherlock lost his smile and turned around to the confused only married person in the room.

''What did you expect?! Even you know that it's not a simple beast that killed her.'' In a fast move he grabbed the husband's head and looked at him straight in the eyes. '' you know it because you already have your ideas about who ended her life. You should have noticed earlier that we were insinuating a murder but you didn't ask because you knew it before us. You actually knew it before she got killed. And even know you're sitting so straight and correctly in your seat because you're strained about our presents, especially mine. You know that I know that you know who killed her so spit it out before I go upstairs to have a word with the naked women in the bathroom about your children. But I don't think you want her to know.''

''You didn't have to do that Sherlock.''

''Come on, admit it, that slap that girl gave him was amazing.''

''And how did you figure out she had herself a husband?''

''Come on, she wasn't that young after all and had a golden bracelet written on one of the sides '_'Elizabeth & Andrew_''. The man we just meat was called Carl. You don't need to be a genius to understand that the date on the other side of the bracelet is the weeding date. ''

John didn't answer, feeling a bit stupid. He had in his hand the paper with the names and numbers of the suspects Mr. Combri gave them. There was written about 17, 18 strangers name Sherlock and John would need to go and meet. Under his other arm, was Mrs. Combri college year's book, with the names and pictures of her classmates.

''Now that I think of it, why are you only taking the information about her college period? Why not high school or primary school too?''

''Tell me John Watson, have you ever wanted to kill someone when you weren't even 16, 17? I doubt that the criminal we are looking for had that king of thoughts in kinder garden.''

''Maybe she knew him from before.''

''She was Irish John.''

Said Sherlock in a sigh.

''She moved to England when she was just 7.''

John opened his mouth. He just did a little ''oh...'', he was amazed by the tall man's skills.

They were still walking before reaching the first address written on the paper. John stopped, reading the phew words written one more time before looking back to his friend.

''its here.''

Sherlock turned back to him with a smiley mouth and grateful blue eyes.

''Well, after you , John.''


	4. Chapter 4

They left and the women closed the door behind them. It was the 1st address they were trying, and the women who had answered was Mrs. Combri's cousin, a nice woman with short blond hair and a face very similar to Jane's. She refused kindly the questions of the consulting detective even if it seemed like she didn't care about what had happened to her gone cousin. John crossed out her name on the paper.

'' Kelly Stortford. Why do they all look so angry against that woman? '' Said John reading the next address.

Sherlock didn't answer; he was just having a look in his mind palace.

''No sorry, I do not wish to have anymore relation with Jane Combri, even if she is now gone, I do not want to talk about her. Goodbye.''

It was the 5th time a door was closed at Sherlock's face. This time it was Jane's uncle, an old man with a slow and low pitched voice. Sherlock angrily walked away followed by John. He knew that he couldn't calm down his friend easily.

''And what about the poem on the piece of paper? ''

Said the small man trying to keep up with the detective.

''She already had it in her pocket when she got killed.''

''You said the opposite earlier.''

Sherlock stopped.

''But of course!''

He looked back at John with a light of understanding on his face.

''It was so simple, how didn't I think about it before?!

''What?''

He grabbed his phone and taped a number in. He placed the phone near his ear. After a short moment he started talking with a fake large smile on his face.

''Hello my dear Molly how are you?''

''I'm surprised you called out for me you usually never do, I'm actually very ple...''

''stop talking please and tell me what I really want to hear.''

His voice was gone cold again but was used to his unkindness against her and pretended she didn't understand.

''You were right.''

''Oh come on I'm always right tell me something I don't know!''

John resisted the temptation to remind him every time he was wrong. Molly hesitated for her next words.

''Well...euhm... she was beaten many times in the back of her head. The 4 bites mark had small damaged metal fragments in them, they were probably made by some sort of old knife...''

''What about metal teeth?''

''What are you talking about John?''

Answered Sherlock, intrigued by the man's insinuation.

''I would have imagined some kind of metal pair of teeth...not you?''

''Oh you mean like the metal traps that use hunters?''

''Yes something like that Molly.''

''That's very interesting John...''

Thought out loud the concentrated genius.

''Why are you acting so mysterious on this case Sherlock? You barely told me what you were thinking...''

The man stopped thinking and turned his head left towards him. He had felt the hand of the blond man grab his arm with a sad face.

''Well... uh... I'm sorry... I...''

He regretted those few seconds of weakness. He turned to the right so John's hand would let him go. He walked away to the other side of the white and large table and only when he was as far as possibly from his friend's hands he looked at him.

''The poem in her pocket, someone slipped it in before she got killed. Why? I still don't know but it must have a meaning. You're right about the metal teeth marks so we are looking for someone who hunts regularly, enough to actually have his own equipment. Kelly Stortford, her cousin, she was a doctor she had a medicine diploma hanged in the entrance of her flat. It was clean and modern furniture, obviously living alone, she had grey cat's hairs on the end of her trousers, probably a cat, I doubt with the money she wins she would actually go out casually hunting and if she did her cat would not be there anymore. The colleague of Jane, Gary Dillon, the tall man who answered the 2nd door, obviously a nerd seeing all the books he had in his house and the fact that he lives in the same building as his mother (I saw the name _Elizabeth Dillon_ on the door of the apartment next door with an old fashion sign on it, obviously an old women.).No way would he kill someone or even an animal. The 3rd house didn't answer, but I'm sure an old grandmother reaching her 90s in two month would go have a little _santé_ tour in the woods, chasing bears in her wheel chair. The couple in the 4th house was too polite and too rich to do something like that specially the husband who hasn't stepped a foot in a forest since he was little.''

''What about her uncle?''

''Probably never liked her and never bothered to have any contact with her.''

''Okay so what do we do know?

''Well that's obvious we are going to knock at every single door written on that piece of paper and spot the most suspicious person. If that isn't enough we will find the addresses and numbers of all her past classmates. ''

''And what if it was someone she didn't know? Just some new serial killer?''

''If he is then we will just have to wait for his next move, but I don't want to wait I'll get bored.''

John sighted.

''You don't need to come John.''

''Shut up you need me.''

''That's true.''

They looked at each other with a deep look straight in the eyes.

''Can... I come?''

Said Molly, with a little shy voice, breaking the mood.


	5. Chapter 5

''Consulting detective? It's the first time I hear such thing...please, do come in.''

Said Mrs. Stortford, moving aside to let the three strangers in. The first man, who was tall and handsome, had a calm expression on his face, looking slowly around every little detail with his bright blue eyes. He was followed by I smaller man with brown eyes and short blond hair who was watching the man in front, like if he was making sure that he wasn't going to run off. And behind him was a young girl with long brown hair and an old green jacket, looking a bit lost, who gave a large and shy smile to the old women.

''Please, have a seat.''

They sat down on a pink davenport, John in the middle, the curly man on his left, and the cute women on his right. The old lady was fascinated by these three very different personalities, sitting in very different ways. One had his long leg crossed and watching with a strong look, the other was sitting straight and with a formal haircut, and the last one was trying to take less space possible on the couch and was looking down at her knees. Mrs. Stortford nearly laugh about them, it seemed unimaginable that these three strangers were sitting on the same chesterfield. She sat down herself on a matching sofa and left her walking stick against the armchair.

''So how may I help you?''

''You don't look very sad about the death of your own daughter.''

Said Sherlock, not caring about how rude the question was. John would have slapped him if he wasn't two heads taller than him. So he just simply yelled:

''Sherlock!''

''No...Its okay.''

Said the old women to John, who looked at her with a non understanding face.

''It is true that me and Jane didn't go along well. We never made contact with each other after she left the house at only 7 she left Ireland to come in England, to live with her father. Two years after I came to see her, even if she didn't care about me being there or not. The only reason why she went living with Scott was because he was rich. She really didn't seem to care about the rest I'm afraid. After a few years I moved to England myself. She was a brilliant student even if her horrible reputation preceded her. I always wondered what went through my daughter's mind... ''

''So when was the last time you saw her?''

''About 18 years ago, she was getting married, she was 28. Her husband had invited me without consulting her and she was very mad about that. The last words I heard from her was: '' you disgraceful mother.''.''

Molly was chocked, but she couldn't resist asking a question herself.

''Did you still love her?''

Sherlock sighted loudly. John glanced back at him, making him have a tiny, but really small feeling of regret. Mrs. Stortford weakly smiled to the girl before kindly answering.

''I wished I could say yes, but it would be a lie. To be frank I don't even know if I ever really loved her.''

Even Sherlock was surprised by her answer. Even more than John, who decided to quickly change conversation with another question.

''Do you know why Jane kept the name of her husband after her divorce?''

She looked at him with a little laugh.

''She didn't want to have the same name as this family she hated.''

Once again, the young woman, setting next to John, was deeply chocked by her answers.

''And what happened to your husband?''

''Well Mr. Holmes, he died a few years ago of illness, I was at his funeral but I'm afraid Jane was not, I guess she didn't really care. ''

She grabbed her walking stick and painfully stood up. She turned back towards the white chimney behind her. She slowly grabbed a photo that was on top of the clean marble. It was her daughter and herself on it, when Jane was about 5, 6 years old.

''I never saw that poor child smile. I wonder if she was truly happy, I actually doubt it. ''

She placed the picture back down and a tear ran down her cheek, than a second on the other.

''What have I done wrong for her to hate me so much...?''

Sherlock was watching, with a cold emotion on his face. John stood up, watched by Molly, who would had started crying if it wasn't for what John was going to do.

''We are sorry to have bothered you, Thank you for your answers.''

She turned back to the short man and gently smiled before letting one last tear drop.

''And you obviously couldn't tell that before...''

''I did, but you weren't listening enough.''

''I was!''

Their argument made them forget about the poor lost girl trying to keep up with them. John sighted and glanced back on last time towards Sherlock.

''So I'm repeating this for you bunch of idiots: On one of the pictures who were on the chimney was the complete family. The father, the mother, the daughter and the brother.''

''She had a brother...?''

Asked Molly, walking next to John.

''When his mother left Ireland, he stayed there to finish his studies; he was in university at that moment probably. But I don't understand why his mother didn't mention him at all...

''Maybe he died.''

''Oh come on John! If he was she would had mentioned him at least once. But no, it was like if she was trying to hide him...''

''Hide him? But what for?''

''He could have killed her, and the mother who knows about it is on his side. Or even better, she asked him to kill her against something else...''

''But she was so nice, she couldn't have possibly...''

''Don't be even more stupid it was obviously fake even her tears was comedy.''

He had just the time to finish his words that they had arrived at the blue door of 221B Baker Street.


	6. Chapter 6

The shadow and cold of the night had covered London. People would go out and have a drink or two in the neighbourhood pub, before coming back home, drunk , in the mood for ''activities''. It was a usual Friday evening, and the week end was already staring by a good pint of bear. The restaurants were full too, filled with romantic couples or first dates strangers. Some, staid at their small flats, watching TV or having lunch with their family. But Sherlock wasn't any of them. He was the special case. The type of people who would work on experiments in their improvised lab that they had installed in their small kitchen. Strangely, he had been even more mysterious about this case towards John, who barely new these days what his flatmate was thinking about. It was very frustrating. He quickly glanced at him before driving is eyes back to the screen of his laptop. But at the second his look ran away from his friend, the curly man starting watching him tap on his keyboard. He scowled seeing the title of the new paragraph John was writing. ''the malicious child''.

''What kind of title is that?''

John turned back and gave him a frustrated look.

''Don't start criticising my blog again; I have a lot of readers who enjoy those titles. The only person that doesn't is you.''

Sherlock turned his head in a pissed off sigh.

''What are you doing?''

''Inspecting one of your hairs.''

''What?!''

''I found it in the bathroom, I was bored so I thought it would be fun to know how well your hair are clean.''

John tried not to laugh.

''Is this what people like you do when their bored?''

''There are no people like me except for me.''

John closed his computer and left it on the table before leaving his comfy red sofa. Sherlock looked up at John standing next to him, looking at him with a neutral face. He looked back with a surprised open mouth.

''What is it?''

He had barely finished his words that John's lips where in contact with his.

''Sherlock?''

He was pulled out of his dreams by a familiar voice. When he blinked, he saw John, still sitting on his chair, staring at him.

''Are you ok?''

'''Uh... yes, yes; I'm fine.''

If John wasn't there, he would have banged his head against every wall he could find. Instead, he tried to concentrate his vision through his microscope.

''You should go and have some sleep you don't seem very well.''

He was right, Sherlock head was burning him, but that usually never happens to him, he didn't really know what he could do to stop the pain.

''I'm fine.''

''Sher—''

''I'M FINE!''

John's eyes were wide open, surprised how loud Sherlock had screamed. The angry man stood up in a rash movement with some kind of confused hands movements.

''Okay, I'll go to bed.''

And left the room in a fast step.

The phone rang. She picked up her cell phone that was on the white table. '_'John Watson''._

''Yes? ...John... What? Sherlock is..?''

''Ill!?''

He laugh loudly.

''It's not funny. I've called Sarah to look after him, she really is doing a great job.''

''It is the first time I know my brother sick, it must be very entertaining to have Sherlock in that kind of state.''

''Yes well I have to go back, Sarah won't be able to control him when he'll wake up.''

The apartment wasn't far away; they were just in the cafe next to Sherlock and john's apartment, at speedy's. He left the small bar followed by Mycroft and his small snide smile. He looked up at the snowy sky before looking back down at the small man on his right who was firmly closing his jacket.

''Take good care of my little brother Mr. Watson, I know you will.''

He nodded back before stepping in the small ply of snow, which had already covered the beautiful capital.

''Oh John! Sherlock's gone mad!''

Said Mrs. Hudson, welcoming him at the entrance of the door. He looked at her, slightly panicked before hearing a scream full of rage coming from upstairs. He ran up and pushed the door of the apartment. Sarah came quickly towards him.

''In the room, he's really not well!''

Her walked by her and entered Sherlock's room. He was standing on the other side of the bed. His head between his two hands, rubbing his hair. John tried to walk towards him but he had only stepped 2 steps that Sherlock had turned back to him, with a pale face and angry breath.

''Sherlock!''

Sherlock jumped on the bed, and came off of it from the side where the blond man was, and grabbed John by his collar, pushing him against the wall making him enable to touch the ground.

''Sherlock...you ... have to calm down.''

He was so angry, John was scared.

''Why does it hurt so much?!''

Screamed Sherlock, looking straight at John, who had difficulties to breath, but with the little strength he had, he stretch his arms around Sherlock's neck and pulled him to his chest.

''calm down, please...''

The strength of the tall man slowly fainted, until John was able to touch the floor again.

''Sherlock...''

He pulled him in for a hug, trying to calm him as he could.

''I'm... so tired...''

John pushed him back on the bed. He calmly lied down in the large bed. Being able to breathe normally again, he placed the bed cheat over his shoulder, and before leaving the suffering person, left a kiss on his forehead. He came out of the room and came back with a wooden chair.

''As he calm down?''

Asked Sarah coming in when John was sitting down.

''Yes, I'll watch him for the night, go home Sarah, thank you for your help. Please tell Mrs. Hudson not to worry anymore.''

She smiled and closed the door. A few minutes later, she had left the flat, leaving John on his own with the invalid sleeping Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**Hiya! **

**Sorry , I don't have an amazing writing :s , but anyway, hope you like the chapters until now!**

**Please , really need reviews thx :D !**

**See ya'!**


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